The Variant [Part One] [Wanda Maximoff [FF] | Elizabeth Olsen

Chapter 42

For two weeks, the city went into grieving. They held a funeral procession for Sigyn, her mortal body was put in the funeral pyre; afloat on the ocean. As a tradition, a new elder or elders shall incinerate their predecessor's corpse as a way of pre-succession. In contrast to the hues of cream-and-gold robes of Supreme Sorceress Helen, the new High Priestess Raven representing the witches wore a long robe of deep purple fabric woven with black threads, the robe seems to come alive, billowing and twisting around her in a mesmerizing dance. Just like Helen, Raven has a crown atop her head. The dark-haired witch raised her hand and shoots a blazing fireball at the funeral pyre lighting it up. The ferry moves towards the ocean as the current rowed calmly.

The sun had just set, and the sky was painted with shades of orange and pink as the mass group of people, witches, sorcerers, and the variants gathered on the beach. In the center of their circle, the funeral pyre had adorned with flowers and decorated with colorful fabrics. Surrounding Sigyn's body are small bottles of offerings provided by every beverage industry within the city acting both as an offering for the dead and to make the disintegration to ashes much faster. The mourners watched in silence, heads bowed, as the flames were lit and the pyre burns. It floated farther till it became nothing more than a speck on the horizon.

Everyone returned home after that. The sorcerers and the witches will still be holding their council meeting with The new set-up in the Abbey. Through Mortianna and Vasilisa's connection to the upper echelons of the corporate side of the metropolis, they convinced the officials to provide rehabilitation, healthcare, and mental therapy for free. The aftermath of the disaster has been a pain for those who fought of course it is as worst as the ordinary citizens who witness it. There are a lot who went for it for treating PTSD, depression, trauma, and severe anxiety from the attacks. Others, however, chose a more holistic approach via niche and vocational hobbies and recreation. Vincent is one of the teachers for those who chose the alternative - he is teaching robotics for children who are interested in such.

Vincent strolls around for a bit. He felt content, to say the least as if a piece of him has been recovered. Though he confesses that he's still weirded out by this whole variant thing. So I'm a robot... Vincent figures. A robot that could feel and think on its own, capable of having strong convictions like a real human being.

It's almost ironic how his form started as a disembodied slave for the original Iron Man, Jarvis, an artificial intelligence that could give to his every whim, and yet in the end his human incarnate (Vincent) became a vital role in defeating the artificial intelligence that is the Superior Iron Man's high-tech armor.

Vincent saw Milla having a hard time fixing her scooter. “Damnit!” Milla throws a tool away from her in frustration. It appears that the scooter has troubles with its engine. In memorial of Elder Sigyn's death, the breweries that are independently owned have halted their batches temporarily so that the Abbey could give way to their monastic brewing of Trappist ales of dubbels, tripels, and quadrupels - being a known traditionalist it was Sigyn's beers of choice. Vincent had bought a four-pack of a lighter-weight ale from the Abbey to visit the teen and her mother.

“Hey. Looks like you got yourself in trouble,” The blonde man said. Milla nodded as she looks forlornly at the scooter. The teen is covered with dark marks all over, grease, and grime. He knew that she was trying to distract and cope with the situation just like everybody. He notices that Wanda is not around. “Can you help?” Milla said. “Of course,” Vincent smiled. The man did not need any tools all he did was put his hands on the scooter. His eyes glowed with a soft yellow haze (mind stone) as they x-rayed scanned the scooter's anatomy. He found the problem and in an instant the engine was disassembled, find the problem, fix it, and then fused back together. “Done!” Vincent said. He unpacks a bottle and uncaps it, taking a gulp.